The Life We Did Not Choose
by Outlanderzero
Summary: (Story leading up up to, "What's Right Got to do With It?") Three years after he takes her from the hospital, Joel and Ellie have semi-acclimated to civilian life in the walled community of Jackson. Tommy and the rest of the town see Joel and Ellie as father and daughter, and Joel doesn't see a reason to correct them. Ellie, however, never likes being told what she is.
1. Operation: Glass Hand

**Hi everyone!**

 **I'm so happy to say that the story leading up to the events of "What's Right Got To Do With It?" is underway! Oh, it feels good to be in this world again, and I hope you enjoy reading it half as much as I enjoy writing it. As I said in the Author's Note of WRGTDWI this is a story shipping a 17 year-old Ellie with a 50-something year-old Joel. I DO NOT CONDONE THIS RELATIONSHIP IN REAL LIFE. I write this story because the idea of how relationships and age gaps would work in a world like The Last Of Us is fascinating to me, and it's fun to write about. I'm sorry to say that updates will probably be slow because I'm in college. As consolation, hopefully, when I do update, they will be long well-thought-out chapters. As always, please leave comments, I love feedback and talking with you guys :) Enjoy! (Disclaimer: I do not own The Last Of Us or any of the characters, I only own the storyline in this fanfiction and any OC's I create for it in the future. I am writing this story for entertainment purposes and am receiving no payment to do so. I also do not own the cover image)**

* * *

"How many?" He whispered.

". . . ten . . . maybe twelve."

"Any of 'em clickers?"

She concentrated harder, causing the headache jabbing into her eye socket to worsen.

"Shit," she said. "all of them."

"Damn it . . . alright, you go around left an' take out as many as you can; I'll go through the center then we'll meet up on the other side and take the ones on the right side together."

"No. I should go through the middle, I'm smaller and quieter."

"Ellie . . ."

"You know I'm right."

He sighed. "Alright. But we still take out the last ones together. They might get tipped off from us fuckin' around with the others."

"The ones on the right?" Ellie asked.

"The ones on the right."

With agility not meant for her size-too-small-jeans, Ellie climbed over the hood of the old car and slowly made her way behind the first clicker. Small feet held strong thighs, that carefully guided themselves around anything but the softest patches of leaves. She came to where she was only a foot away and then silently raised herself, bringing both hands around the creatures neck like scissors, the one without the knife falling just a split second before the other; Just like she had been taught.

The creature croaked once and then went lax in her arms, spasming like a lover.

There was another one directly to her right and right as it started to click she did the same to it.

Ellie heard the same sound and looked to her left to see Joel a few steps ahead of her doing the same thing. They were doing good.

She moved up and did it again, and again, and each time blood would run down, tickling her forearms. After every kill she would have to stop and wipe her bloodied hands on her T-shirt, because it made her switchblade too slippery to hold.

The scouts from Jackson had spotted the little ranch with the boathouse, but didn't have enough weapons (or so they said, but really they were just chicken) to do the job themselves. So, they came back to the town and told the committee what they saw. Joel and Ellie volunteered for the mission which is how she came to be here, hands sticky with blood and spores.

 _This place had better be worth it,_ she thought. Or so she thought. But she hadn't quite thought it; she spoke it. Or more, _breathed_ it. But she had breathed right as a clicker that had been behind a crate, clicked. It jerked it's head in her direction and clicked louder. Ellie's legs couldn't move fast enough quietly enough so she put her hand behind her to try to slither away, but her palm landed on a piece of broken glass. She gasped and it was on.

The clicker squealed to life and charged.

"Shit!" she brought both her legs up and kicked it in the stomach, scrambled to her feet and launched herself at it's throat. The knife hit it's mark and it stopped moving but there were still seven more headed toward her.

Joel grabbed the one in front of him, hard around the neck, and finished it. He vaulted over the nearest crate, wrapped his hand around another clickers neck, threw it to the ground, stomped on it's head and ran to Ellie, both of them getting into a back-to-back formation, guns drawn.

The glass in Ellie's hand was pushed in further every time she pulled the trigger, and she used three bullets getting the clicker in front of her. She saw one in her peripheral vision and used her arm to shove Joel back. She ran at it with her knife as five more came staggering and shrieking out of the forest.

"There's too many of 'em," Joel yelled, "we gotta get out of here!"

"No, we gotta get those supplies – duck!" Joel went to his knees as he felt bullets whiz over the top of his head and then a large weight fall on his back.

Whoever this clicker had been before he turned, he needed to lay off the meat, Joel thought, as he tried, unsuccessfully, to push himself up as a clicker ran towards Ellie. She pivoted her feet, spraying Joel in the eyes with dirt as the clicker crashed into her, its jaw snapping at her face. She held it back with one hand against its throat and another against its stomach, the glass now completely embedded. She staggered, and fell back onto the body of the clicker that was over Joel, all while trying to fight off the clicker still on top of her. She wouldn't have been able to if Joel hadn't grabbed the clicker's ankle, causing it to trip and roll to one side. Ellie took the opportunity and rolled backwards.

Being dazed for only a second, she jumped back to it, grabbing the shoulder of the dead clicker and, using all of her strength and momentum, hauled it off Joel, right as the live clicker got back up.

Joel jumped up, and stabbed the clicker in the eye, shoving it into the other two behind it. Then he turned, grabbed Ellie's hand, and ran.

They weaved in between broken cars, crates and barrels. Ellie gritted her teeth against the pain in her hand, feeling as drops of her own and clickers' blood dripped down her finger-tips. They sounded like they were inches behind them, and when Ellie felt a tug at her hair she ran until she was pulling Joel behind her.

Ellie got to the boat-house door first, opening it without stopping. The two went flying in, and Ellie tripped over the lip of the door, but Joel swung around and slammed it shut, sliding the dead-bolt into place. He flinched as the loud banging and clawing sounds started rattling the hinges.

"This ain't gonna hold long, Ellie," Joel said, still looking at the door. "You see any way outta here?"

He spun around because he heard no answer, so he spun around expecting Ellie to be in the choke-hold of some bandit or clicker, but she wasn't. At first he thought she was looking at the body of the man who (Joel assumed) had previously inhabited this boat-house, but she wasn't even looking at that; she was looking beyond him, to the back of the boat-house wall where, stretching the entire length of the building, was cans of beans, soups, meats, and jams, bags of salt-cured beef, flour, and sugar, packs of sodas, beer, wine and almost anything else you could imagine as long as it was preserved.

Ellie looked back at Joel, smiling through the blood and dirt on her face.

"Told you it was worth it." She said.

Joel started to smile, but a loud cracking sound from behind made he and Ellie jump. They whirled around to see a large crack splitting down the length of the plywood door and old, cracked fingers shove their way through.

"It ain't gonna be worth it if we die, you see a way outta here?" Joel asked as they both looked around. There were four windows, but they were all boarded up, and it would take too long to get the boards off. The crack in the door got larger, splinters of wood flying.

"There," Ellie pointed, "There's a trap door!"

Sure enough, there was a small cut-out in the ceiling covered by a piece of old plywood; plenty big for Ellie and maybe just doable for Joel.

"Come on," Joel said, putting his hand on her back, "up the crates."

There were two large shipping crates that some of the supplies was stacked on, and Joel jumped on these, pressing his palms against the plywood while Ellie stood with her eyes and gun trained on the door.

"What's taking so long?" Ellie yelled, as a clicker managed to get half of its body through the crack in the door, almost being bifurcated by the force of the others pushing behind it.

"It's tied from the other side, well have to cut the cord."

"Well, do it then, where's your fucking knife?!"

"Outside in some clicker's head, gimme yours."

Ellie reached behind to her belt and groped for her knife.

"What the fuck," She said, "It's not fucking here-"

The clicker's head broke through the crack, its skin almost pulled part from being shoved through the splintering wood. Ellie pulled out her pistol and shot it, but she knew its body wouldn't plug the hole for long. She kept her gun drawn and her eyes on the door as Joel jumped down, taking the same stance beside her.

"You must've dropped it when we ran," he said. "S'all right, though. We can fight em' off as they come. How many bullets you got?"

Ellie's eyes darted from the door in front her her, to the trap-door behind her.

"Hold them off." she said, as she swung around, sprinting to the crates and jumping on top below the trap door.

"Ellie-" Joel looked behind him, but heard a screech and shot and a clicker that had broken through the window. "What are you doing?!" he yelled, keeping his eyes trained on the door.

Ellie was looking at the rope keeping the trap-door closed. It was more of a string, but made from paracord, so it was strong; it wouldn't take a very sharp object to cut it.

Ellie shoved her pistol into her belt, and brought her injured hand palm-up, so she could see. There was a deep, red gash, that slowly oozed dark, red blood. The glass had gone in deep and at an angle, but as she winced, wiping away the blood, she could see its sharp, shiny edge. Taking a deep breath, she thought of Angel Knives, pushed two grimy fingers into the gash, and screamed.

Joel whipped around, "Ellie, what the hell-"

"Don't look at me, look at them!" Ellie screamed back. She kept feeling the edge of the glass, or at least she thought she did. The air seemed to get very thin, and the world just a bit too real.

Joel was about to run to her, but heard shrieks and turned around to take out more clickers.

Ellie pushed her fingers in deeper, which caused the entire injury to grow larger, but when she final felt her fingers get a grasp on the hard, smooth surface, she bit her lip, hard, and pulled the piece of glass from her hand, about an inch and a half in size.

Leaning against the rough wall of the boat-house, breathing too fast and too shallow, she swiftly shook her head and grabbed the cord holding the trap-door in place cutting it loose in less than a second. She pushed it open and called to Joel as she climbed out, "Hey, I got it open, get over here!"

With ear-splitting shrieks and cracks, the infected had finally managed to tear down the door and Joel shot one right before it got to him. He kicked the next one so it fell into the rest, knocking them over, and scrambled up the stack of crates. He got his head and torso through the opening, and Ellie was right beside him with her hand underneath his arm helping to pull him up, when he suddenly got dragged down - what would have been all the way if Ellie hadn't been holding on.

"Fuck!" they both yelled, as Joel kicked and pivoted so he and Ellie could see down to where the last clicker had grabbed a hold of his leg. He violently shook it off before it could bite him and pulled himself up with help from Ellie, until nothing but his right foot dangled, and still the clicker managed to grab him again, it's jaw snapping at his boot.

"Oh, _fuck_ this shit . . ." Ellie said, as she took her non-injured hand, brought it up into a fist, and punched the clicker as hard as she could. When it still didn't let go, she put her hand on its face, feeling its teeth scrape her palm and drawn blood, put her pistol against what was left its temple and pulled the trigger. She pulled her hand back, staggering until she fell on her ass, breathing hard. Joel was doing the same, and they both stayed that was for a long time.

While Ellie was by-far the more injured of the two, she flopped onto her back and started laughing, holding her hands awkwardly over her stomach and letting the bright rays of the setting sun wash over her dirt and blood-smeared face.

"I can't believe we fucking did it, Joel," she said. "From now on, every time you say something's too dangerous, I'm gonna bring up what went down today."

Ellie didn't hear anything, so she raised her head, squinting at him. He was sitting perpendicular to her, about three feet away, with on arm draped over his bent knee, not looking at her. She could see the rise and fall of his chest was faster than normal, but he didn't seem _that_ winded.

"Hey," she said, raising up slightly, "you okay?"

It still took him a few seconds to respond, but even when he did he still didn't look at her.

"It _was_ too dangerous."

He looked at her, then at her hands and winced, although she couldn't tell if it was in sympathy or anger. He got up and walked over to her, kneeled beside her and took one of her hands.

"You let yourself get bit," he said.

Ellie looked at him, her brow growing furrowed.

"I didn't 'let myself' get bit, I got bit saving your ass from getting bit, and we both know it doesn't matter if I-"

"Yes it does matter, it matters a hell-of-a-fucking-lot," Ellie looked at him as if he had started flirting with infected.

"We don't know how much of that infected shit can get into your tiny-ass body before it starts to do somethin', and I have told you, time and again, that just cause you've been ok a couple'a times, don't mean you can run in, gung-ho and let yourself get bit like it's no big deal!"

Ellie scooted back and fumbled getting up without using her hands.

"So was I just supposed to let you get bit?! I don't think so, cause we sure as hell know what'll happen when a tiny amount of infected shit gets into you; you _die_ , that's what! I saw you were in trouble, I knew the risks and I used the safest method I could think of. God, why are we even arguing about this? I saved your life, I got us through the trapdoor, I'm hurt, and now you're _lecturing_ me?"

"Uh huh," Joel nodded, backing up slightly. "You took the 'safest method,' that being to punch it a few times, lettin it get real cozy with you, give ya a couple of love bites, _then_ you decide to use your gun, is that your idea of safe? Why didn't you use your gun to begin with?" Ellie opened her mouth to speak, but Joel kept going, "And also, who's fault you think it is you are so roughed up, who fucked up with the plan and sent a hoard of clickers down on us?"

Ellie laughed in his face.

"You're right," she said. "I fucked up the plan. I fucked it up cause I didn't see the one close to me, and I made a little noise, but you know what? If it had been you going first, you and your fat, lumbering ass woulda tipped em' off a hell of a lot sooner than I did."

"Don't you talk to me that way, Sarah-"

He and Ellie both froze, and the air buzzed with tension. The sun had almost set, and it seemed like it was pulling the world taught as it did so.

"I'm not Sarah, you asshole," Ellie said. Joel didn't answer, he just kept looking at her, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. She looked out over the small field where the dead clickers lay, then she turned around and headed for the trap door, talking without looking back, "I can't carry stuff with my hands; put some in my backpack and some more in yours. We'll bring enough to show the committee it's worth sending out a gathering party to get the rest of it," she said as she dropped down the hole. Joel took a deep breath and followed after her.


	2. Winter is Coming

**Wow, it feels like so long since I published on here. I just finished finals and it feels so good to be writing for fun again! I hope you guys enjoy this next installment of LTWDNC. As always, I love feedback, constructive criticism, all that good stuff. Enjoy!**

* * *

Tommy sat on the 20 foot security wall looking out over the dense forest. Joel and Ellie had left that afternoon and it was well past 7:00 at this point. He knew he shouldn't worry; they had been through much worse than whatever they could find at that boat-house.

Although, he supposed he couldn't know that for sure.

Earlier the day before, when the scout party came back saying they had seen a ranch with a boat-house, crawling with clickers, Tommy had wanted to send a team out immediately. But the agriculture/economic side of the committee thought it would waste too many resources and not reap enough to make it worthwhile.

Over the years, Jackson had grown larger and stronger, and in the beginning it could only make Tommy's heart swell with pride. But, as more people came into the town, the less practical it seemed to have him as the sole leader—so, as more people with more skill-sets came in, he got together the ones that seemed to have the best instincts and skill-sets to keep the town safe, although he quickly discovered this wasn't as easy as he had hoped.

The main reason being, a lot of the people who had skills in the conservation and brains aspect had run from other towns, or quarantine zones and had little-to-no experience dealing with clickers and bandits and didn't think that nearly as many resources should be kept for battle as for food, lumbar and the like. On the other hand, the people that did have combat experience wanted all resources on weapons and nothing else, and they usually weren't the easiest to get along with and would attack the brainy people when they would suggest venturing out to find more towns. What usually ended up happening was Tommy would keep primarily "brainy" people on the committee, plus himself, Marie, Joel, and Ellie.

The brainy people didn't like Joel and Ellie on the committee, cause they thought Joel was too volatile and Ellie, too young. That is, until they saw the two of them put their heads together and come up with a strategy to move cars and down trees in a way that would send a band of infected right in the path of a group of bandits coming a little too close to Jackson. Honestly, when the two of them got together they could come up with combat strategies that'd impress Robert E. Lee. Which, as sick as it made him feel, was one of the reasons Tommy was getting so worried that they hadn't come back. Joel and Ellie were the only ones in the town with real survival experience that were still able to exist with other humans.

"Shit, Joel. Dontchu' let those committee people say 'I told you so'," Tommy said to the crisp night air. It was the end of summer, and the days were still hot and muggy, but the nights took on the chilly shadow of the hard days ahead. He got up to circulate the wall and see if any of the other watchers had seen anything when he heard a squeaky voice call his name.

"Tommy, Mr. Tommy, sir, I've seen them, sir! Ellie and Joel who went out this morning, they've come back in through the east perimeter, they should be here soon, sir."

Tommy slumped back into the plastic lawn chair and ran a hand through his greasy hair, "I need a bath," he laughed to himself with a smile on his face.

"Thanks for the update, Sammy," Tommy yelled down. "how did they look?"

"They were both walking on their own, but they weren't talking very much sir, or at all. Is that normal?"

No, it certainly was not normal. Ellie was always bugging Joel about something and Joel was always giving back his halfhearted responses. If they were silent that either meant one of em' was pissed, or both of em' were sad. Oh well, if the supply run was a dud at least they got back home.

"I'm sure it's perfectly normal, Sammy; thanks for spotting em'. How bout you end your shift early and go on home, I bet that'd make your mamma real happy."

"Are you sure you won't need me, sir? They might need help bringing supplies into the camp."

Joey Schindler was a 15 year-old boy who wanted, more than anything, to be 50 year-old man. He would take extra shifts guarding the perimeter, stay from 5:00 in the morning till 7:00 at night and take as many scout patrols on the inner perimeter as Tommy would let him. The problem was he had real bad asthma and'd fall down wheezing after 20 yards of running. Because of this, Tommy would never let him go on searches or scavenges. But he had real heart, and Tommy hoped that, as he got older, the asthma would go away.

Right now though, that's what he wanted Sammy himself to do; he idolized Joel like a messiah and, from the description he gave, Tommy could tell Joel would not be in the mood to be idolized.

"We'll be fine. Go on now, you've done plenty today."

Sammy opened his mouth to say more, but then closed it and forced a smile before walking back through the gate.

Tommy looked out over the treeline; he could just make out the silhouette of two people walking out of the trees, staring straight ahead and walking four feet apart.

 _Oh boy,_ he thought, as he headed down the ladder to greet them.

It took Tommy all of two minutes to get to and down a ladder and out the main gate, right as Joel and Ellie were almost to the wall.

"Well, you two sure are a sight for sore eyes," Tommy said, trying to gauge just how bad the blood was between the two.

Joel looked like he was trying to chuckle, but it came out as more of a sigh. Ellie just looked at him. That's when he noticed that her arms were hanging limply by her side, not in their usual place on the straps of her backpack.

"You're hands okay, Ellie?"

"My hands aren't a problem . . ." Ellie said and she shrugged her backpack to the ground and used her foot to kick the flap up, exposing the cans and sacks of food inside.

" . . . The problem is you got a gold-mine under your nose and, now that we've cleared all the infected, if you don't get it now, either another pack of infected is gonna surround it, or a pack of bandits is gonna steal it. So I suggest you and Joel go to your testosterone group, have your little jerk-off session, and send out a scout party to get the rest of the supplies."

Seemingly satisfied with her impression, Ellie began walking towards the gate, still not having looked at Joel once. Tommy blinked for moment, looked at Joel, and then turned in Ellie's direction, surprised.

"The boat-house was a hit? You found supplies there?" He called to her back. She turned to answer, but Joel spoke first.

"Enough to last through some of the winter, if we use it sparingly." This was the first thing he had said since they got back and, for a moment, Tommy thought maybe things weren't so bad between him and Ellie.

"Well, that's fantastic!" He said, "man, here I thought you guys were all upset cause you hadn't found nothing."

Ellie scoffed, and turned back around to walk into Jackson.

"You better be going to see doc, Ellie," Joel called after her.

She halted mid-step, then turned around, displaying her hands in front of her like a game of patty-cake.

"Where the fuck-else do you think I'd be going?"

"Whoa, Ellie," Tommy interjected, glancing back at Joel, a knowing look dawning on his face. "Did you get bit?" Joel answered for her, "she sure as hell did, and it wasn't for lack of trying."

Ellie's head lowered, and she looked at him through dark eyelashes.

"Would you stop making it sound like I stuck my goddamn finger in it's mouth!"

"Is that not whatchu' did?"

Tommy was standing beside Joel looking at Ellie, trying to decide if he should try to defuse the situation as Ellie started towards Joel with the purposeful walk she saves for outnumbered bandits. And in that situation, she usually has a gun.

He tried putting himself a couple of feet in front of Joel and in between the two, but Ellie darted around him and shoved Joel as hard at she could with the back of her hands, causing him to stumble back a small ways.

"I did it to keep _you_ alive, you Son Of a Bitch! Look— " Ellie shoved her hands in his face, letting him see the deep gash from where the glass went in and came out in her left palm, and the small scratches and cuts on her right.

"— there's no infection, nothing's growing . . ."

She awkwardly maneuvered his hand to her forehead.

" . . . I don't have a fever. I knew even if I did get bitten I'd be ok-"

Joel snatched his hand away from her forehead, but remained standing just a bit too close so she had to look up to meet his eyes.

"That's the problem right there, is you don't 'know' _anything_ about it. No one does. We don't know if it's permanent, we don't know if it's just slower in you, we don't know how it works—"

"And who's fucking fault do you think that is?!"

Tommy's eyes fell closed, while Joel's were wide; he took a couple of steps back.

"Is that what this is about, Ellie? Salt Lake City?"

Ellie stared at him for a long time as her eyes became hard and distant.

"You know what else we don't know about this thing?" She said in a hollow voice, lifting her right arm to display the first bite she ever got.

"We don't know if it could have saved all mankind."

Joel looked around, chuckling, and sauntered back a couple of steps.

"What was I supposed to do?" He asked, "stand outside the hospital for the next hour, two hours; knowing that at some point you had taken your last breath, not even knowing when. Is that what I shoulda' done? If it had been me, is that what you woulda' done?"

Ellie scoffed, looking around at the trees.

"I don't know . . . I hope so," she said, "I hope I would have, if not for all fucking mankind's sake, I hope I'd do it so you wouldn't have to wake up every morning feeling like I do."

For a while Ellie thought no one would say anything, then Tommy softly asked, "How do you feel in the morning, Ellie?"

She didn't respond for some time, and when she did, even though it was in response to Tommy, she said it looking at Joel.

"I feel like every breath I take, and every night I sleep, I'm taking it from someone else."

Joel looked at her for a long time, and he felt very, very old.

"You're the reason I feel this way, Joel. And I hate you for it," she said. "I always will."

For just a moment her eyes grew wide, and her lips parted slightly; she looked like she was fourteen again. Then, she straightened up, returned her eyes to their natural, dark, acceptance, turned, walked to the Jackson gate and disappeared inside.

The two men stared after her, neither making a sound. It was 9:00, the stars were out and the wind was chilly. It stirred the trees and the grass, and the walls of Jackson moaned and creaked slightly, but in a way that meant they were settled and sturdy, not about to fall down. They would last through the winter.

Tommy put his hand on Joel's shoulder, but he couldn't smile. Then, he started heading for the gate and bent down to pick up the backpack Ellie had left.

"Wait," Joel said, his gruff voice seeming to be softened with the breeze. "Leave it. I'll get it."

Tommy nodded, then went through the door, forcing himself not to look back.

Joel looked down at the backpack. She'd had this one for two years, but it looked like it had been used for 20, even though it was new when he gave it to her. Well, as new as anything could be. He remembered finding it in the storage room of an old department store when he was on a run with the people from Jackson. He had made Ellie stay in the town because she had twisted her ankle when he was teaching her how to play baseball. When he walked into her room with the new backpack she tried not to look excited, because she was still mad at him for making her stay. But when he left the room he peeked through the key-hole and saw her exploring the new pockets and zippers, seeing how all of her supplies would fit. She had been fifteen, and it seemed so easy to make things up to her then. That was before she had figured out he had lied. Or, at least it was before she told him she knew.

He looked down at the backpack again, and thought about kicking it; he thought about leaving it. If he did, with the food inside, it would be carried of and torn to shreds by raccoons and coyotes. He picked it up and dusted it off, then carried it with him back inside the walls of Jackson, telling the guard to lock the gate behind him.


	3. Patched but Not Healed

**Omg, I am so sorry for not updating for so long.**

 **When college is** **happening I get totally caught up with it and don't really have a lot of room in my brain for creative writing, but now that I'm only taking one class (and it's online - _ -) I have time to think about stories again!**

 **I hope that everyone is healthy and safe, and that this chapter bring you all a little bit of fun :)**

* * *

"OW! Jesus fuck, Doc . . ."

Ellie sat on one of the four ambulance gurneys Jackson's humble hospital held. There was only one real hospital bed that Joel and Tommy were able to get from the hospital, ten miles away, and it sat along in a room off to the side where it could be accessed from all sides in case a surgery had to be performed.

"I'm sorry Ellie, but you did a lot of damage here and I have to make sure all the glass is out before I can even—"

At the sound of his dire words Ellie's head jerked up and she tried to jerk her hand back, but Doc held it in his cool, firm grip.

"Get it closed so it can be in full working order again," he finished for her. The revelation that her hand would be ok was the first time Doc had seen her let her guard down since she burst into his office cradling them both at her chest. Doc knew that she and Joel were going on a semi-dangerous mission, so her sudden entrance didn't surprise him one bit. Although, even if he hadn't known she was going out, he still wouldn't have been very surprised; Ellie had been bursting into his office with all manner of injuries since the first week she arrived. He was impressed that such a young girl was able to sit completely still while he set a dislocation, or sewed up a busted lip. She would swear, of course, but she was still. And she always said the same thing, which was

"'It has to be workable by next week,' yes dear, I know."

Ellie had opened her mouth, but when the doctor spoke she slowly closed it and gave him a warm smile. Which was rare from anyone, but especially Ellie.

They sat in comfortable silence for some time, Doc's head continuously bent over Ellie's hand in concentration. The cut was large, deep and jaged from all it had been through; the glass almost went through the back of her hand when she fell, so it would always have been deep, but if she hadn't dug the glass out it probably wouldn't have been so jagged and wide. Whatever though; she stood by her reasoning that all of her actions saved herself and Joel, and she didn't regret a single one of them.

"You haven't even mentioned the bite on my other hand," Ellie pointed out.

"I disinfected it," Doc replied matter of factly, still keeping his eyes on the larger injury. There was a small pause while Ellie regarded Doc with a curious smirk.

"How come you're the only one that doesn't lose his shit when you learn I've been bit?"

"I'm a doctor," he proclaimed, "I was trained to assess injuries and treat them based on how serious they are . . ."

He looked up and her, finally and asked, "Miss Eleanor, do you feel that you're about to sprout fungus from your head and take a bite out of my face while I try to fix your hand?"

Ellie chuckled and shook her head no.

"Then I believe this laceration on your left hand is much more serious than the slight flesh-wound on your right."

There was a comfortable silence for the next few minutes while Ellie watched the doctors slow, sure hands work to close the gash. She felt very sleepy, probably because her adrenaline has been going since that morning.

"You've always seemed less freaked out by my bite than other people . . ." It wasn't a question, or anything that needed a response, but Doc did anyway, "Did you know that my wife was infected?"

Ellie's eyes rose, her face pinched.

 _Of course,_ he thought, _the cure . . ._

"Her name was Gwen. We survived for awhile, then one just came from behind a corner and bit her right where you are. I stayed with her. What else could I do? You remind me a bit of her . . . maybe it's just nice to see someone not succumb to it . . ."

Doc's hand hadn't stopped suturing the entire time he talked, and only did when Ellie's hands stopped him, "I'm so, _so_ sorry, Benjamin." Benjamin knew she wasn't apologizing for his wife dying, she was apologizing for not saving her.

Doc blinked back the tears behind his old, round specticals and said, "now, now, don't make me mess up these stitches. I'm a doctor, and doctors are supposed to heal their patients."

Ellie's lip trembled slightly at the end of the man's sentence, but she kept it together and even smiled, leaning her head to the side and closing her eyes.

"Don't go falling asleep, Ellie, the committee will want you to be there after I'm done to see how we should go about getting those supplies."

Her eyes opened slowly and rubbing her face with the back of her unoccupied hand; sleep really was a long way away.

"Ugh, the committee is _not_ gonna wanna see me, doc, they never do. They're just a bunch of sexist old accountants that survived because they happened to be at their 'country homes' when the infection broke out,"

Doc smiled wryly and hoped she wouldn't notice.

"They hate that a chick sits next to them anyway, and they hate even more that that chick is the only reason some of them are alive."

Ellie looked down and saw Doc pull another suture closed, bringing two jagged pieces of flesh back together again as if they were puzzle pieces. She also saw her pinky draw up a little as he tied the knot.

"You sure that hand's gonna be ok? I mean, I guess it's ok if it's not, it's not my shooting hand but—"

"You're hand will be fine," Doc interupted, " _If_ you keep it clean and _don't move it_ for the next week. You'll have to do a bit of therapy after that because the tendons will have shortened, but I would say after two weeks you should be back to your usual activties."

He had finally finished with the sutures and was carefully wrapping a bandage her hand, adding a bent piece of metal at the back to keep it still.

"two weeks!?" Doc was always impressed by her ability to scream during a procedure while not moving the part being worked on.

"For most people I would say two months; I swear you're the only patient that sometimes makes me wonder if I'm truly acting in your best interest."

He finished tying off the bandage and scooted his chair back, but he didn't look up.

"What do you mean?" Ellie asked cautiously.

Doc didn't answer immediately; he continued to look at her heavily bandaged hand, then his eyes moved to her right ankle. It was twisted in slightly, then he looked at her neck where the ugly, welted scar was from when a bullet had grazed her. He had treated her since she got to Jackson, in a time where he did what was "medically correct" for her injuries. She always wanted to start helping again before she was ready, but the girl had a very serious sprain; he didn't think she'd actually go out and walk on it. He didn't think she'd have been able to. But she did, and because he hadn't splinted it tight enough; if he had her foot wouldn't be turned in. It was after that injury that Doctor Benjamin Adams realized that this child would not bend to his medical opinion . . . he would have to bend his opinion to her.

"You won't be healed after a week, Ellie," he said quietly, "the wound will have just closed and if you use it, _if you handle a gun_ it will split back open, it will get infected, you will not come in to see me in time, you will get sepsis and you will die!"

He expected Ellie to yell back, but she only looked at him and waited, patiently, for him to finish.

"So I have to heal you differently; I have to make deeper sutures which will leave more scars, I have to make stronger splints which means you won't move the injured part as much as you need to."

"I'm strong, Doc, and I have good fighting instincts. Jackson doesn't have many people like that, so I have to do my part whenever I can!"

"You won't be strong! You'll have arthritis, you'll have scar-tissue so thick you won't even recognize your hand much less use it-"

Ellie jumped off the table making it squeak dangerously.

"I probably won't live till I'm old enough for that to happen, Doc! And I could still get arthritis even if I let this wound heal for three months! But I'm here now, and I can help people."

Benjamin's face, previously looking like a red balloon about to pop, suddenly went slack and looked at her, again, without the physician's judgment.

"I'm here, and I can help. Maybe not as much as is possible, but I can help. I could die tomorrow, so I'm gonna do all I can now."

They looked at each other for a long time and Ellie thought he was going to yell again, but he only smiled and said, "Well, then I guess you shouldn't keep the committee waiting any longer, should you?"

Ellie placed her right hand on Doc's shoulder to thank him, then winced, remembering that it was also beat up. He saw.

"Oh right, that . . ." He got up from his chair and went to a metal cabinet, grabbing a bottle of disinfectant and a bandage. He came back and took her right hand,

"This is gonna sting like a son of a bitch," he poured the alchohol over it, grimacing as every muscle in Ellie's body tensed. Then, with hands that had been doing the same thing for twenty years, he bandaged the bite and hoisted her off the bed by her wrist.

"Do what you have to do, Ellie," he said with a smile.

Once Ellie was outside and Doc had closed the door she took a moment to lean on the tin building she and Joel had helped build. She was looking at the clear, night sky, but her mind was on the night ahead.

 _Sleep is still a long way away . . ._


End file.
